


Something, in General

by 5a5b5p5



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ace/Demi neil josten, COVID-19, Figuring out sexuality and sex stuff, Figuring shit out, Lots of talking bc communication is sexy, M/M, Mild Smut, Tw COVID-19, handjobs, omg and they were roommates in quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5a5b5p5/pseuds/5a5b5p5
Summary: Now that they’re stuck in quarantine together, Neil knows, objectively, that they are going to have to talk about it. Andrew’s kisses are new and wonderful, but Neil still doesn’t know how to feel about the whole sex thing.He figures that now is the time to figure it out.or: neil and andrew’s relationship is brand new when they’re forced into quarantine together, and neil takes the time to focus on his own sexuality, and also talk out a few other bumps in their road.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 55
Kudos: 422





	Something, in General

**Author's Note:**

> let it be known that asexuality is a spectrum and is different for everyone! this is just how i imagined it going with neil :) i hope you like this!

On the second day of lockdown, the apartment is just the same as it has always been. The television mutters the breaking news and the leaky faucet drips annoyingly onto an unwashed plate. Neil sits upside-down on the couch and bounces his legs off the top of it, his knees knocking together and blood rushing down to his head where it’s lolling off a cushion. It’s warm in their apartment even with only the gentle brushes of early spring curling in the wind, and Neil can feel a bead of sweat rolling slowly into his hairline.

Neil lazily rolls his head to the side to look at his… something. He hasn’t really been sure of _what_ Andrew is to him as of late, since the easy tittle of _roommate_ had quickly disintegrated into a fine power of confusion after Andrew had kissed Neil two days previous, literally one day before they’d been forced into lockdown. 

Andrew is spread out similarly on his side of the couch, although he is right-side up. He’s in nothing but a tank top and boxers, and Neil himself only wears a loose tee shirt and some running shorts. Andrew, sensing Neil’s eyes on him, glances away from the news to look at him, using his spoon to drown the last of his sugary cereal that they’d been able to find in stores in a murky ocean of chocolate milk.

Neil sighs, but Andrew just returns his attention to the television, where the news anchor says the words _COVID_ and _quarantine_ enough times to make Neil want to pull his hair out. 

Neil doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, and it’s only been two days. He turns again to look back at Andrew, which has become one of his favorite pastimes over the last few weeks, ever since Neil had begun to get that strange sensation tugging at him, urging him closer and closer to his roommate until they had finally collided. 

Neil enjoys Andrew’s company, and he always has, ever since they’d started renting their apartment together nearly one year ago. He likes the easy way they’d begun to move around each other in the kitchen, and he likes that Andrew always picks the left side of the couch so he can curl up in the sunlight like a cat and read a book. Neil likes to see Andrew’s approving nod when he comes home to a freshly stocked freezer, or the way the right side of his mouth quirks up when Neil makes a particularly condescending remark about a character in the movie they’re watching. 

Despite all of that, though, Neil still doesn’t think that Andrew could have picked a worse time to tackle him with a kiss than the day before they’d been told to stay in their homes until they’re told they can leave, which is currently looking like never. 

Neil enjoys Andrew’s company, and despite Andrew’s rebuttals, he knows that the feeling is mutual, but that doesn’t mean they’re used to spending every waking moment together. Andrew is a private man by nature, Neil by nurture, and they both relish in alone time as much as they do in each other’s company. Neil likes to go on long runs in the mornings. Andrew likes to sit on a park bench and read a novel from dawn to dusk. Neil likes to spend time with Dan, Matt, and Allison, and Andrew enjoys sparring with Renee or going to lunches with his twin after their joint therapy sessions. 

The point is that they’re more than used to time apart, even outside of classes and jobs, and now suddenly Neil has Andrew around all the time. He feels like he should be more thankful for Andrew’s nearly constant company, especially now that he knows he’s allowed to kiss him, but somehow that added factor just makes everything harder, especially because of Neil’s previously assumed asexuality, which has all but been thrown out the window at this point, leaving Neil in the confusing swing of a sexuality crisis. 

_Especially_ considering the fact that nothing has happened between them since that kiss. 

That’s not to say Neil doesn’t _want_ anything else to happen between them, which is far from the truth, surprisingly. Neil probably would have even kissed Andrew a second time, if it weren’t for the fact that after Andrew had kissed him, he’d moved on like nothing had happened, and Neil had let it. He knows that this forced normalcy is probably just Andrew’s way of telling Neil that nothing _needs_ to change, but it’s making Neil’s job a whole hell of a lot harder. 

Neil doesn’t know what his role is in all of this. Doesn’t know how long they’re going to be stuck inside together. Doesn’t know whether or not this quarantine is going to be the thing that strengthens them or weakens them. Still doesn’t know how he feels about doing anything _more_ than kissing. Doesn’t know anything at all, except for the fact that he _does_ want to kiss Andrew again. 

Neil props his elbows up against the edge of the couch cushion, has to do it again after he slips right back off. Andrew turns to him with an unimpressed eyebrow, and Neil feels a grin split across his face despite himself at the sight of Andrew’s resting pissed off face.

Andrew stares, and Neil stares back, mind wandering back to the kiss they’d shared just two days from now, on this exact couch, Andrew pushing Neil’s back up against the arm of it before tearing himself away not ten seconds later. 

It would be so easy to lean up and kiss him now, or even pull Andrew’s shoulder down to get him where he wants him. 

Neil doesn’t know what would happen if he did that, though, and the unknown had always terrified him. On the run, he and his mother had always known their next step, had always planned ahead in case of any surprises. Neil doesn’t know how to navigate these unknowns, however insignificant they may seem in the long run. 

Neil breaks his stare, flopping his head back until he’s watching TV upside down before rotating himself until his head is in Andrew’s lap, sighing when he feels a hand thread through his hair easily. 

At least he has this to fall back on. Neil knows that this casual trust and intimacy is not something freely given for Andrew; for either of them. He doesn’t think anything could change that. 

Andrew says, “Do you think we will be able to get Ben & Jerries delivered.” 

Neil tunes back into the news for the context, and sighs when he sees an image of their local grocery store under a bright red ‘Delivery Only’. Neil turns his face into the softness of Andrew’s belly, letting it shelter him from the world for a few seconds. 

Andrew tugs on his hair until Neil looks back up at him. “That was a serious question,” he says, and Neil smiles. As if Andrew could be anything other than one hundred percent serious about ice cream. Neil says, “We couldn’t trust them with your usual order. We’d have to dumb it down for them.” 

Andrew hums in thought, hand still tugging lightly at Neil’s hair, which makes him preen in a way he doesn’t want to think too hard about. “We could write up a comprehensive list,” he murmurs in a way that makes it sound like he’s actually considering it, “like a flow chart.”

Neil sighs again. He _loves_ going on ice cream runs for Andrew. He takes pride in being the only person in the known universe who knows Andrew’s ice cream preferences inside and out. He knows the order in which to look for flavors, knows what to get when they don’t have a certain one. Knows what to get depending on Andrew’s mood, appetite, etcetera. It had taken him months to understand it completely and he hardly thinks some teen with a neon green shirt and a drawn-on name tag would have the brain capacity to understand it, even if provided with a flow chart. “I still don’t trust it,” Neil says.

Andrew shakes his head mournfully. “This is the worst part of this whole thing.”

“People are dying, Kim,” Neil mutters distractedly, preoccupied with the quiet sounds Andrew’s stomach is making against his ear.

Andrew glares at him. “I’ll never forgive Reynolds for showing you that show.”

Neil hums, “It’s terribly entertaining. Speaking of, can we change the goddamned channel?”

 _“People are dying, Kim,”_ Andrew shoots back, but he’s already reaching towards the coffee table for the remote, squishing Neil’s head between his bare chest and his thighs and leaving Neil to either suffocate or fight his way out. Neil licks Andrew’s chest like he would his hand when he’s covering Neil’s mouth, and Andrew shoots up immediately. “Pest,” he says, but his eyes are dark in a way Neil’s begun to recognize more clearly in the last few days. 

It’s exhilarating and terrifying, knowing that Andrew wants to kiss him. Knowing that Andrew probably wants to do _more_ than kiss him, and he has to stop that train of thought before he ends up right back where he was previously. 

Andrew lets Neil put on _Keeping Up With The Kardashians_ and pretends to hate it while simultaneously getting completely invested into the storyline of every episode without fail. 

They don’t have much food stocked up, since they’ve yet to place an online order at their grocery store, and Neil makes them ramen noodles for dinner, adding the flavor packet and parmesan cheese to Andrews and sriracha and butter to his own. As is customary, Neil feeds Andrew a bite of his noodles and laughs when Andrew’s face turns red from the (mild) heat, pouring him the last bit of chocolate milk to help soothe his fragile tongue.

As they eat, Neil wonders what Andrew’s reaction would be to the spice if he tasted it off Neil’s lips instead, and files that thought away as unhelpful and distracting. 

Maybe he will pluck up the courage to kiss Andrew back tomorrow. 

~

Neil wakes up to the sound of the news channel droning away on their living room TV. It’s still dark out, and a quick check of the time on his phone tells Neil that it’s just passed two in the morning. Andrew must not have gone to sleep at all. 

Neil had gone to bed wearing only his boxers and a thin sheet, but the South Carolina night had cooled off their apartment significantly since then, and Neil grabs a fluffy gray blanket from the foot of his bed and wraps himself in it before heading to his bedroom door, slipping into the worn pair of orange fox slippers Matt had gotten him last month on the way out.

Andrew’s sitting on the couch, and he’s on the phone, TV playing only quietly in the background now. He has changed into his pajamas and is now wearing a pair of thin gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He’s hunched over himself, eyes intent on the news and obviously listening to whoever he’s on the phone with talk. He gives Neil a glance of acknowledgment and imitates drinking something before holding up two fingers. Their signal for hot chocolate. 

Neil might have scolded him for consuming too much sugar so late in the night, but the sour look on Andrew’s face just makes him thankful he didn’t signal for whiskey instead. Neil heads into their tiny interconnecting kitchen, getting started on heating some milk on the stovetop, boiling some water in the kettle for himself. 

In the living room, he can hear Andrew’s low voice now as he speaks. “Aaron,” he’s saying, “what can I do?” A pause, and then a grumble from Andrew, like he’s unsatisfied by the answer he’d received. “Shut up,” Neil hears the sound of the television being switched off, and then Andrew’s talking again, voice firmer than before. “Here’s what you’re going to do Aaron,” he says, “you and Katelyn are going to do your jobs, and you’re both going to wear as many masks as they tell you to. You’re going to do what you need to do, and if at any point you can’t do it anymore, you’re going to come to me, and we are going to figure something else out. Understood?”

The kettle begins to shriek, and Neil cuts it off just in time to hear Andrew’s murmured, “Good. Good night.” 

Neil tucks his teabag into the hot water and dumps a teaspoon of cocoa powder into the milk still heating on the stove, following it up with an absurd amount of sugar and stirring until it dissolves before adding in a splash of vanilla extract. Andrew hadn’t made the signal for marshmallows, but Neil adds some to the top of his mug anyways, topping the monstrosity off with a dollop of whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon. 

Neil comes back into the living room with mugs in hands, passing one off to Andrew and turning on the lamp, illuminating Andrew’s face from where he had been sitting in the dark, staring down at his phone. “You’re worried about him,” Neil says, dropping down beside Andrew on the couch. 

Andrew just nods, taking a probably painful sip of his hot chocolate and letting the whipped cream brush against his uncaring nose. Not too long ago, Neil knows Andrew would have denied that accusation vehemently, as well as any other claim about him caring for his brother. Now though, Andrew just fiddles with his phone tensely, fingers itching towards the remote like they would a cigarette. 

Andrew says, “They have him working a lot already. Katelyn too. They’re not nearly experienced enough to handle something like this.”

Neil swipes his thumb across Andrew’s nose to get rid of the access whipped cream, letting Andrew lick it off without much thought. “They’ll get through it though,” Neil tells him, taking a sip out of his own mug. “They weren’t trained for this, no, but they were trained pretty damn well. They’re gonna be fine. They’re both far too stubborn to let themselves get sick when there are people out there who need their help.” 

Andrew remains silent for a few more moments, draining his mug and leaning forward to place it on the coffee table, slumping back against the cushions moments later. “Yeah,” he says, and then, “come here.”

Neil does as Andrew had requested, climbing into his lap with a leg other either side of Andrew’s thighs. “You’re a good brother,” Neil tells him quietly, and Andrew seems to lose some of the tension in his shoulders. 

“Shut up,” Andrew glares, “talk about something else.”

“I can’t do both of those things at once, Andrew,” Neil teases, and then immediately holds up his hands in surrender when Andrew makes to throw him off his lap. “Okay,” Neil sighs, trying to think of something interesting enough that it would distract Andrew if he talked about it. He comes up blank, aside from one thing. 

He’s warm and safe in Andrew’s lap, and the outside world is dark and quiet. The TV is off. Neil thinks this might be the perfect moment to bite the bullet. “It’s been three days now,” he says quietly, tracing his thumb along the vein of Andrew’s neck, “since you kissed me.”

Andrew stills beneath him, before relaxing again, giving Neil a carefully rehearsed blank look. “Yes,” he responds, “that is true.”

Neil lets his fingers tug at the lobe of Andrew’s ear gently, and he feels a tentative hand rest at the small of his own back. “I’ve been thinking about it,” Neil confesses, “a lot. And I want to kiss you back, now. Just kissing, for now.”

Andrew closes his eyes for a moment. “Okay,” he replies, reverent, and then he surges upward and kisses Neil. 

It feels the same as last time, in that it feels like Neil’s entire world has been flipped upside down. It feels different than last time in that this kiss is objectively _far_ better. Neil opens his mouth to Andrew’s because it feels like the right thing to do, and then Andrew does something with his tongue that makes Neil forget he has one of his own. Neil’s hands are in Andrew’s hair and Andrew’s own are roaming up and down the expanse of his bare back under the fluffy blanket he still has draped over his shoulders. 

Neil is sure he’s never felt anything like this before. Isn’t sure he ever will again. Isn’t sure what any of this means for him and Andrew. Isn’t sure about anything at all, but right now, being sure doesn’t matter, and he lets himself get lost in Andrew’s mouth for an indeterminable amount of time.

~

They hadn’t gone back to bed after that, instead remaining tangled up on the couch, kissing and talking and dozing off every once in a while until finally succumbing to sleep, horizontal on the couch once again somehow. 

When Neil wakes up for real, he’s warm and weighed down and itching for a run. Andrew had pushed him down onto his back last night, and they had fallen asleep like that, Andrew’s warm weight on top of Neil as he blinks awake. 

There’s light pouring in through the windows now, and the apartment is quiet around them, no noises from the street right at this moment. Andrew is laying on him, head pressed into Neil’s bare chest and left hand curled around Neil’s elbow. His hips are perfectly slotted between Neil’s thighs, and the fluffy blanket is draped over both of them. Neil thinks this is the comfiest he’s ever been. 

He’s craving a run, hasn’t been able to go on one in a few days now. They had ordered some face masks off of Amazon about a week ago now, but they’d yet to arrive, so going anywhere just yet is really out of the question. 

He wonders what happens next between him and Andrew, as he has been doing nonstop ever since Andrew had first kissed him. He knows, logically, that their next step probably has something to do with having sex, but he doesn’t know what to do with that information. For as long as Neil can remember, he hadn’t been interested in anyone at _all_ , much less sexually. A few panicked FaceTime calls to Dan and Matt, along with a quick google search had helped him understand his attraction to Andrew a little better, but… he’s still not sure about the sex thing. 

He knows that Andrew would never pressure him to do anything if Neil weren’t one hundred percent sure about it. He knows that Andrew was probably smart enough to anticipate this from Neil, what with all of their late-night discussions of anything and nothing at all. 

Neil knows he’s attracted to Andrew. Knows that he probably is going to want to have sex with him _eventually_. He just doesn’t know when, or even how, really. 

Andrew shifts above him, and Neil looks back down at him, moving a hand to shuffle it through Andrew’s sleep-mused hair, smiling when he lets out a tiny sigh into the skin of Neil’s chest. 

“Good morning,” Andrew grunts, pushing himself up so that his face is now tucked into Neil’s neck. 

_Good morning,_ Neil tries to say, but what comes out instead is, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Andrew blinks up at him, sleepy and adorably confused, “Yes,” he says simply, and then, “you don’t, though.”

Neil frowns, “How do you know that?”

“You don’t swing, remember Josten? Even I know that kissing and sucking dick are probably two very different things for you.” He flicks Neil’s forehead softly, “Sex and kissing aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”

Neil sighs into Andrew’s hair, letting it flutter up against his cheek and tickle his nose. “Okay,” he says, feeling small and dumb and miserable for no reason at all. 

Andrew seems to sense it because he gives Neil a quick kiss before sitting up completely to look down at him, Neil’s bare skin feeling cold and too light without Andrew’s warm weight pressed against it. Andrew frowns down at him, “Nothing is set in stone, Josten. You’re allowed to change your mind later on. Stop worrying about it and go make me pancakes.”

Neil can’t contain his grin at that, pushing up his thighs and lifting Andrew with them from where he’s straddling them still. “You can sit on me or you can have pancakes,” he says, and Andrew sighs, like Neil is the greatest inconvenience in his life, before he steps off the couch entirely, popping all the bones in his back in a way that would make anyone who isn’t Neil wince. 

Neil grabs his phone and the pair of strange earbuds Allison had gotten him for Christmas last year and heads to the kitchen, queuing up a podcast while he starts mixing up the batter. He hears the shower start and then stop in the bathroom. 

Neil adds chocolate chips to the remaining half of the batter and folds them in, listening to his podcast and the murmur of Andrew’s quiet voice from his bedroom, more than likely back on the phone with Aaron.

Neil tunes out his thoughts, focusing on the sizzle of butter in the pan and the soothing intrigue of his podcast until he feels a hand at his elbow. Neil doesn’t startle or turn around immediately, letting Andrew steal a handful of chocolate chips from the bag sitting on the counter. 

Andrew taps once on one of his earbuds in question. “True Crime,” Neil answers, and Andrew hums. 

“Put in on the Google thing,” he requests, pointing to the tiny robot speaker on top of their fridge. 

“You know I don’t trust her with the murder podcasts,” Neil whispers, staring up at the little demon. “I don’t think we should be giving her any ideas.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, plucking Neil’s earbuds from his ears and placing them back into their little case, connecting the podcast to the speaker’s Bluetooth. “If she were going to kill us in our sleep, Neil, I think she would have done it already. Do you know how many times Nicky made her play the Hamilton soundtrack before she was ours? If she were sentient she would have jumped off the fridge.”

“Hey,” Neil starts, affronted, flipping the last pancake onto a plate for Andrew. “I liked it that one time Nicky made me listen to it.”

Andrew carries their plates to the coffee table, “Everyone likes Hamilton a reasonable amount,” he says, “Nicky was inhuman.”

Neil lets out a huff of a laugh, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table and beginning to cut up his pancakes. Andrew joins him a moment later, their knees bumping into each other gently, and they listen to their murder podcast in silence while they eat.

~

“Neil,” says his therapist Dr. Pines, “It is good to see you again, even if it is through a screen.”

Neil wrings his hands together and nods. Despite all the progress he and Dr. Pines had made over the last few months, Neil still has trouble with the first few minutes of each session, when it feels like he’s opening up all over again. “You too,” he forces himself to respond, and Dr. Pines smiles at him warmly, their bright teeth flashing still despite the camera’s pour quality. 

“Let’s start with this,” Dr. Pines taps their pen a few times against an out-of-frame notebook, “is there anything you want to talk about in particular this week?”

Neil scoffs despite himself, thinking of all the shit that had happened this week. COVID, Dan and Matt getting sick, the Andrew situation, which wasn’t shit in itself but came along with quite a lot of it. Neil starts with what he’s been thinking about the most, which is, of course, Andrew. “My roommate kissed me last week,” he says, trying and failing to keep the giddy smile off of his lips. 

Dr. Pines grins at Neil’s expression, scribbles something down on their notepad. “From the tone of your voice, I can assume that you’re happy about this?” 

Neil nods, and Dr. Pines grins wider. “Well, in that case, I’m very happy for you, Neil. How is this new relationship playing into your previously assumed asexuality?” 

“That’s what I’m not so sure about,” Neil tells them honestly. “We’ve kissed, but we haven’t done anything else. He says we don’t have to.”

Dr. Pines hums intently, and Neil can hear Andrew moving around in the kitchen. “And how do you feel about doing other things?” Dr. Pines asks. 

“I’m not sure,” Neil starts, fighting back against the urge he always gets during these sessions to shut down and stop talking about himself. “I think I want to… at some point. I’m just not sure if I’m ready or not yet.”

Dr. Pines scribbles in their notebook again, “That’s okay, I’m sure you know,” they begin, and Neil nods. “In previous sessions, you’ve spoken very highly of your roommate,” they flip back a few pages in the notebook, “Andrew, right?”

Neil nods again, beginning to feel drained from this conversation. 

“Well, Neil,” Dr. Pines says, meeting his eyes through the screen, “I can’t make these decisions for you, as you know. It’s okay to be unsure or to want to test a few things out. I would recommend talking about it with Andrew if you haven’t yet.”

“I have, kinda,” Neil says. “He told me that kissing and sex aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“He sounds like a wise man, then.”

Neil smiles, but it drops soon after. “It’s just… hard… for me,” he says truthfully, “being unsure. Especially now that we are together literally all of the time. Everything feels like a wasted opportunity.”

“Not to be a downer, Neil,” Dr. Pines laughs, “but I think you’re going to have plenty of time to figure things out in quarantine. And if you don’t? It doesn’t sound like Andrew would mind.” They pause, tucking a few strands of short dark hair behind their ear, “How are things going in that department? I can imagine you’ve been missing out on your morning runs.”

Neil huffs a laugh, “Yeah,” he says, “I’ve been… restless, but aside from that it’s been weird being around Andrew so much more. Good, most of the time, but weird.”

“Weird how, may I ask?”

“Like,” Neil trails off, taking a few minutes to gather his words. “I like hanging out with Andrew. But things changed so quickly after he first kissed me, and suddenly we weren’t even allowed out of the apartment. It feels like I never really got the time and space I needed to process everything.”

Dr. Pines smiles at him proudly. “You’re probably right on that, Neil,” they say, “do you think this conversation is helping you process it more?”

Neil hums, considering, “Yes,” he responds finally, because it’s the truth. Neil, despite his complaints, always feels better after a therapy session. Rubbed raw and split open, sure, but better in the grand scheme of things. 

“Fuck,” he hears Andrew’s voice from the kitchen say, and Dr. Pines smiles at him knowingly. 

“It sounds like you’re needed elsewhere,” they say, closing the notebook and crossing their hands in front of their laptop, “you know you are always welcome to call me or schedule an early session. Is there anything else you would like to talk about quickly before we end this call?”

Neil thinks there’s probably something else, and he tries to think of it, but his brain feels mushy, and he’s craving a hot mug of tea, so he says, “No,” and hopes that it is the truth.

“Well in that case,” Dr. Pines says, “I will see you again in two weeks. Goodbye Neil.”

“Goodbye,” Neil responds, giving them a little wave as the call ends. 

Neil flops back down onto his bed and breathes for a few minutes, letting his brain relax before he goes out to see what Andrew has gotten himself into. 

Andrew is in the kitchen when Neil emerges from his room, wiping up a puddle of water from the floor with a soaked washcloth. “What did you do?” Neil asks him, amused. 

Andrew glares up at him, dropping the washcloth with a splat and grabbing another one from his left. “I knocked your stupid kettle off the stove,” he says, and Neil’s heart flutters. 

“You were making tea for me?” Neil asks, feeling stupid and giddy, lighter from his therapy session. 

“You like tea after therapy,” Andrew says, like it’s something anyone else would remember. “You can make your own now though, since your kettle decided to commit a hate crime against me.”

Neil huffs a laugh as he crouches down beside Andrew, grabbing a dry washcloth and beginning to sop up some of the water. “That’s why you’re supposed to keep it on one of the back burners,” he says.

“Nobody knows that but you,” Andrew scowls, but his eyes look fond. “I still don’t know why you won't just warm up the water in the microwave. I’m still freaked out about that time you could _smell_ the difference.”

Neil points his rag at him, “If you drank anything other than hot chocolate you would understand,” he says, standing up to go put the wet rags in the laundry basket. 

Andrew mumbles something adorably grumpy and incoherent behind him, and Neil smiles at the easy banter. He’s glad that this, at least, will never change. 

~

“They what?” Andrew asks, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter with white knuckles. 

Neil sighs again, looking down at the traitorous grocery receipt. He knew this would happen. “They gave you Cherry Garcia,” he says mournfully, “four pints of Cherry Garcia.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” 

“Eat it, supposedly.”

Andrew scoffs, “Slander.”

Neil places the ice cream carefully into the freezer. Andrew would probably end up eating them after a few days of sulking anyways. “I could call the grocery store,” he teases, poking at Andrew’s cheek, “ask to speak to the manager.”

Andrew shoves the last few groceries into the fridge and makes his way back to Neil, crowding him against the counter. “This is bigger than that. We need the district manager.”

Neil grins and lets out a soft breath when Andrew presses their chests together. “CEO?” Neil asks quietly, voice pitched low.

Andrew hums distractedly and Neil gives him an easy nod, allowing Andrew to surge forward and kiss him. 

It’s been just over a week now, since Neil had kissed Andrew back in the aftermath of a draining phone call, and it had become pretty routine since then. Neil likes to kiss Andrew on the couch. Likes to feel Andrew’s strong hands move him into whatever position was best. Likes when he’s allowed to let his own hands roam over Andrew’s chest and back, and likes it when he has to keep his hands by his sides, too. 

Neil likes this _whatever_ that they’re forming. He likes that it doesn’t conflict with the friendship they’d formed over the past year, and he likes that it feels as easy as breathing to kiss Andrew now. 

It is, however, a lot different than how things were before. Not just because of the kissing thing. It’s only been a week of quarantine, and Neil has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not going to go away anytime soon. Both of them are temporarily not working, although they’ve both been lucky enough to snag jobs that pay them anyways, which means that they’re around each other a lot more than usual. 

While the new pattern of easy kisses blends in seamlessly with the old pattern of their easy banter and friendship, Neil knows objectively, that there are quite a few issues they need to work through. Neil and Andrew have been friends for a while now, long enough for Neil to understand that neither of them knows how to have a relationship in general, let alone when they’re practically locked in a room together for the foreseeable future. Andrew needs space Neil can’t always give him in their tiny apartment, and it’s not even possible for them to _leave_ right now. Neil still doesn’t know how to feel about the whole sex thing, and while Andrew had told him not to worry about it, he can’t help himself. 

So yeah, they need to talk some things out. With each other, and probably with some others too, assuming Andrew hadn’t already talked to Betsy in the same way Neil had talked to Dr. Pines. Neil wants to just let this thing between them do what it wants, but his years of being a real person, along with his last few months of participating in real-life therapy, have taught him that that’s probably not a healthy thing to do. 

He knows Andrew knows that too.

It’s hard though, to bring something like this up in a conversation when things seem to be going well. Neil knows these things are going to take time, and that they should probably address them sooner rather than later, but he really doesn’t want to fuck this up. This quiet life with Andrew is something he never could have imagined having, and he thinks bringing up these issues too soon, in such enforced proximity, might cause a rift between them. 

He needs to bring it up at the right time. He needs to bring it up soon. He needs space to think. He needs to keep kissing Andrew and never leave his arms. 

“I need a shower,” Neil says, placing a quick kiss to Andrew’s nose and grabbing his phone from the counter on his way to the bathroom. 

Neil turns on the water and lets it warm up as he sits on the toilet lid and turns his phone in his hands. He could call Dr. Pines, but their next appointment isn’t for a few more days, and he doesn’t want to bother them. He could call Dan or Matt, but they’re both getting tested for COVID today after a few days of headaches and sore throats. Allison would have far too much fun with his suffering to be of any help, and the same goes for Nicky. Aaron would probably hang up, and Kevin wouldn’t have any good advice. 

Neil sets his phone on the sink and gets into the shower, letting the warm water rush over him. Briefly, he lets his mind summon up the image of Andrew in front of him, muscled body slick and dripping water into the slippery tub. He lets his mind run with that image, experimenting with it and testing his own reactions. 

He knows that his thought process is probably too clinical for the image of a naked Andrew that appears behind his eyelids as he closes them, but he doesn’t know how else to think. For him, sex has always been a distant thing. A beast that lurked in the background of his life, never presenting itself, but always bringing promises of later wreckage. He’s never looked at a person before Andrew and thought _I’d like to touch them,_ and he’s never really put too much emphasis on that fact until now. 

But now, because of Andrew and his terrible timing, he’s stuck in a tiny apartment with a man who he would very much like to touch all of the time, which is something that terrifies him a little bit. Over the course of the last few weeks, when Andrew has him backed up against the counter or pushed down on the couch, he can feel it. That quiet simmering of _something_ beneath his skin, curling up in his stomach like a tensed creature ready to pounce. 

It’s not much different from what he’d felt in the weeks before Andrew had kissed him for the first time, though that feeling had been more in his chest than his dick. 

He feels that _something_ acutely, it’s presence inside of him, but he still doesn’t know whether or not he’s ready to act on it. Where before there was nothing, there is now something, but Neil still doesn’t think it necessarily relates to him as much as it does to Andrew. He doesn’t crave Andrew’s hands on his dick nearly as much as he craves his own hand on Andrew’s. 

It feels like progress, but he knows Dr. Pines would tell him not to think of it like that; that there was nothing for him to progress from in the first place, so he switches up the wording in his own head as imaginary Andrew leans against the wall of the shower and he feels himself begin to harden. 

It’s not nothing anymore, he decides, but he’s not ready to say it’s some big revelation about himself either yet. 

It’s not something about himself, he thinks, as much as it is something in general. Something new for him to think about and experiment with. Something about Andrew. 

Neil blinks, and imaginary Andrew disappears easily, along with his arousal, allowing him to start washing up for real. 

“What took you so long?” Andrew asks from his spot on the couch, reading glasses crooked on his nose and mouth quirked up slightly, as if he can see the imaginary Andrew lurking behind Neil’s shoulder.

“Thinking,” Neil says truthfully, making a detour to Andrew so he can poke at his dimple before making to return to his own room and get dressed. Andrew grabs his finger before he can turn away, though, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of it. 

“Always thinking,” Andrew hums against it. “I never would have guessed.”

Neil feels himself beginning to lean into Andrew’s space, drawn to him as if by the tug of a string. “No thoughts, head empty,” Neil says. “Only Andrew kisses.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Andrew huffs out, pulling Neil against him as Neil giggles and desperately tries to keep a hand on the edge of his towel so it doesn’t fall off his waist. 

Neil allows himself a moment to get lost in Andrew’s kiss, humming into his mouth and letting their tongues brush and their teeth clack gently. He feels that _something_ begin to well up again, pushing against his stomach curiously, and for a moment he imagines trying this thing right now. He imagines letting go of his towel and letting it fall to the floor as he straddles Andrew’s lap. 

It’s nice to imagine, but Neil doesn’t get much further than that before Andrew’s pushing against his chest gently, looking up at him curiously. Looking down at him curiously. Neil thinks about his shower fantasy; thinks about how he wouldn’t mind touching Andrew in that way, even if he’s not ready to be touched back. “Andrew,” he sighs, letting Andrew drag him down onto the couch next to him.

“Neil,” Andrew replies easily.

Neil fidgets with the frayed edge of his towel. “You said that it’s okay… that I don’t want to… do stuff yet.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, “Yes, Neil,” he says, amusement obvious in his tone, “it is okay that you don’t want to _do stuff.”_

“Okay.” Neil feels relieved every time Andrew confirms it, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Andrew would never demand anything from Neil. Still, though, there’s something else he needs to ask Andrew now. “How would you feel about me… doing stuff… for you?”

Andrew’s face freezes for a moment, before relaxing again just as quickly, and Neil can feel his face heat up when Andrew begins to trail gentle fingers up and down the inside of Neil’s forearm. “I think,” Andrew starts, “that that wouldn’t work for me if you’re not involved. Maybe that will change, but for now, it’s a no.”

Neil isn’t disappointed, so he doesn’t frown or sigh. Instead, he heaves himself up until he’s facing Andrew on the couch on his knees, and he presses a kiss into Andrew’s cheek. “Okay,” he says.

“You’re dripping on me,” Andrew says, rubbing away a few drops of water on his cheeks from where Neil’s hair had brushed. 

“Sorry,” Neil hums, shaking his hair out over Andrew and grinning in the face of the glare he receives for that. 

Neil understands how easy it is to accept that _no_ now. Understands that what he’s feeling now is probably not anything different than how Andrew feels when Neil tells him _not yet._ Acknowledgment. Acceptance. No dissatisfaction.

Maybe there really isn’t anything to worry about.

~

Dan and Matt test positive for COVID, and despite their reassurances, Neil is in a flurry of panic for the next two weeks.

Andrew frets after him in a way he insists is not fretting, making sure he eats and stays hydrated, but if it were up to Neil he would be sitting at his friend’s front door until the day one of them comes out and tells him that they’re all better.

They only have a mild case, barely any symptoms, but the thought of his closest and longest friends being stuck inside their house, sick with an unknowable virus, is enough to keep Neil up at night until the day they finally call him and tell him that they’re in the clear. 

The relief Neil feels during that phone call is almost akin to the relief he had felt when he’d finally signed the forms to make Neil Josten a real man. 

Neil finally leaves his room for the first time that day after he receives their call. When he flops down onto the couch, Andrew looks up at him from his book, glasses slipping down his nose and magnifying his eyes cutely. “Can I finally go kill the Wilds-Boyds’ for making me look after you for two weeks?”

Neil rolls his eyes, feeling lighter than he has in a long time. Neil really hadn’t been himself for the last two weeks, and Andrew had refused to kiss him in that state, choosing instead to queue up movie after movie on the nights Neil couldn’t sleep and hold him close on the couch. 

Neil walks over to the couch, draping himself over Andrew, and Andrew gives him his full attention, shutting the book he’d been holding without bothering to mark his spot, opening his arms for Neil to slide into. “I’m sorry,” Neil tells him, resting his full weight on Andrew. “We haven’t kissed in a while”

Andrew smacks the back of his head gently, “Shut up,” he grunts, pulling at Neil’s hips until they’re resting directly over Andrew’s own, “you were worried. And you already know I don’t care about that.”

“Yeah,” Neil admits, pressing his mouth into the crook of Andrew’s neck, “they’re my best friends.”

Andrew tenses slightly, and then relaxes just as quickly, and Neil grins. “You’re not just my friend anymore, remember,” he says. “You’re something bigger than that now.”

Andrew huffs, and Neil pulls back just far enough to spot the blush on his cheeks, pressing little kisses into the flushed skin. 

Neil feels himself beginning to dose off, finally drifting into a real sleep after two weeks of anxiety-induced nightmares where Dan and Matt disappear forever. 

Neil shifts until he’s the most comfortable, and Andrew traces gentle fingers under his shirt to scratch lightly at his back. 

Neil is asleep within seconds. 

~

“Andrew!” Neil calls out into the apartment, “the groceries are here.”

Andrew slides into the kitchen on socked feet. He’d been holed up in his room for most of the day, headphones over his ears, and reading fanfiction on his phone’s incognito tab. Neil hadn’t seen it, but he knows the face Andrew makes when he’s reading something he feels like he shouldn’t be. 

He also knows the face Andrew makes when he’s having a bad day. His hair is a mess from laying in bed all day, and he’s still wearing the clothes he’d slept in the night before. Neil had only seen him once today, when he had gotten up to go to the bathroom and then stared forlornly into the depths of the freezer, probably wishing he hadn’t eaten the last of the cursed Cherry Garcia the night before. 

Usually, Neil would have left the apartment for a few hours as soon as he’d seen Andrew’s ‘bad day face’, but he can’t do that now. He wants to give Andrew as much time and space as he needs, but their tiny apartment is hardly fit for that. 

Since quarantine had begun, Neil has been doing his best to stay out of Andrew’s way on his bad days, but it’s been almost impossible. Before, Neil would give Andrew the apartment for the day, maybe even crash at Allison’s for the night so Andrew felt safe enough to sleep. Now though, he just walks on eggshells, not pitying, but understanding. 

Neil doesn’t think he’s doing nearly enough. 

The exception to the ‘staying out of the way’ thing is the potential of ice cream, of course. Currently, Andrew is digging through the brown paper bags that had been dropped off at their door. Shoving aside the unimportant ones for Neil to deal with. He emerges triumphantly with a pint of Caramel Chocolate Cheesecake cupped between his hands like something precious. The flavor isn’t at the top of the ice cream hierarchy but will do in a pinch much better than the damned Cherry Garcia ever could. 

Neil smiles to himself as Andrew quickly grabs a spoon from the drawer, brushing a hand over Neil’s elbow in a silent thanks before heading back into his room and closing the door behind him once again. 

Neil puts the rest of the groceries away, leaving out the ingredients he needs for dinner. He’s been trying his hand at cooking recently, even though usually Andrew is the one who handles it. 

It’s not like Neil has much else to do right now, so he figures he might as well try to make Andrew feel a little better with one of his favorite things: waffles for dinner. 

He measures the ingredients in accordance with the recipe he had told their strange Google robot to read off to him, but somehow he still ends up with watery batter. In the process of trying to thicken up the batter, Neil accidentally drops the flour, leaving a significant dusting of flour over every single surface in the kitchen, including himself. Neil curses, shedding his sweatpants on the bathroom floor and checking in the mirror to make sure he doesn’t have flour all over his face. He does, so he tries to wipe it off, to no avail. 

Neil is about to rinse off his face when he hears the floorboards creak by the door, prompting him to look up at Andrew, who is standing in his pajamas with an empty pint of Ben & Jerry’s in his hand. Andrew travels his gaze over Neil before glancing into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow. 

“There is flour in your eyebrows,” Andrew says, his voice creaky and low. It’s the first Neil has heard him speak today. 

Neil huffs, trying not to let the relief show on his face, because if Andrew is talking that means he’s feeling a little more like a human than he had been previously. “I’m working on it,” Neil responds.

Andrew hums, peaking back into the kitchen, “You were making waffles for dinner,” he observes, sounding somehow bored and pleased simultaneously. 

“Yes,” Neil says, trying not to be self-conscious about standing in front of Andrew, probably looking the stupidest he ever has in his life, covered in flour head to toe.

Andrew doesn’t smile then, but it’s a near thing, and it’s more than Neil would have ever expected today. “I should have known that it would be waffles that led to me seeing you pants-less for the first time.”

Neil feels his face heat up, and he finally splashes water over his face to ease the burning sensation of it. When he dries off his face, Neil says, “You’ve seen me pants-less before, surely.”

Andrew watches him intently, leaning against the doorframe, looking soft and relaxed for the first time that day. “No, I haven’t,” he hums, “I would have remembered if I had.”

“Shut up,” Neil huffs, thankful for his tan skin when he feels himself blush again, even though he’s sure Andrew can still see it somehow. 

“That’s my line,” Andrew mutters, and he’s smiling a little bit for real now, which makes Neil smile twice as wide. The dimple beckons him, but Andrew is only just coming out of his head for today, and Neil doesn’t want to push it, so he keeps his hands to himself. 

Andrew finds him another pair of sweatpants, and Neil smiles when he notices that they’re a pair of Andrew’s own. They clean up the spilled flour together, though Andrew insists that he knows this fight and that they’ll be finding random patches of it around the kitchen for months to come. 

Andrew takes over the waffles, and Neil puts on a True Crime podcast and sits on the counter to watch him. 

He likes Andrew like this, soft and focused and uncaring. He looks almost ethereal, with the shine of the dying sun reflecting off of his hair like liquid gold, light spilling over his mouth, and into his eyes, bringing out the greens and golds of them. 

Andrew glances up from where he’s buttering a finished waffle, “Staring,” he says, rolling his pretty eyes. 

“Yeah,” Neil admits, before frowning. He remembers his latest therapy session, in which Dr. Pines had told him to talk out his concerns with Andrew. 

He figures now is as good a time as any. “Drew,” he starts, before faltering when Andrew meets his gaze. 

After a few seconds of mindless staring, Andrew scoffs at him, shaking his head. “Neil,” he prompts gently. 

“Uhm, recently,” Neil pauses, thinking up his best course of action. He doesn’t want Andrew to think he’s pitying him, or even reveal that he’s noticed Andrew’s bad days at all if that’s not what Andrew wants. Neil never wants to do anything that Andrew doesn’t want. “Recently, when you have bad days, what do you want me to do?”

Andrew had stiffened at the mention of his bad days, but his shoulders relax again shortly after. “Expand on that,” Andrew says simply, pausing their podcast and leaving the darkening kitchen silent aside from the sizzle of the waffle maker and the crinkle of the chocolate chip bag as Andrew fishes out a handful to sprinkle into the remaining batter. 

Neil picks at the fraying waistband of his — _Andrew’s—_ sweatpants before answering, “Like, before I would just leave the apartment for a little while to give you space. But now I can’t do that and it’s just been something that has been bothering me, I guess.”

Andrew hums and doesn’t say anything for a while. “Did I ever ask you to leave the apartment?”

“No?” Neil replies, confused. 

Andrew drops an aggressive handful of chocolate chips onto the waffles on his plate before clicking off the machine. “You’re doing fine, Neil,” he grits out finally, looking as if he’s speaking directly through his clenched teeth. “I would tell you if I needed anything else. I just stay in my room most of the time anyway.” A tense pause as Andrew collects his thoughts, and then, “It’s… nice… knowing that you’re here with me in the apartment, even if I can’t handle being in the same room.”

Neil nods, trying to keep his disbelief off of his face. Andrew likes to know he’s there on bad days, meaning Andrew draws comfort from Neil. The thought almost makes Neil cry. 

But then there’s another thought, deeper down but almost just as strong, _What if you left Andrew when he needed you?_

It almost hurts, the spike of fear that runs up his spine at the thought of Andrew here in their apartment by himself when he wanted Neil there with him, too stubborn to tell Neil to stay. As if reading his thoughts, Andrew rolls his eyes, carrying their plates over to the kitchen table. “Don’t be stupid,” Andrew says, “I don’t like you _that_ much. I’m fine here without you too.”

Neil’s shoulders slump in relief, and he scoffs, “It’s okay Andrew, you can just tell me you missed me.”

“I will do no such thing.”

Neil hums playfully, “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to admit it, Andrew,” he says, mocking the calm draw of his therapist. 

“Oh my god, I hate you,” Andrew groans, but his dimple is back, and Neil feels his world glow a little brighter. 

~

Neil is starting to wonder when this thing will end. 

They’re allowed to leave, now that their masks have arrived in the mail after months of waiting, though they’re highly encouraged to stay in when they can. Still, though, Neil is bored to all hell. 

Currently, Neil is curled up on the couch with his grey fluffy blanket tucked masterfully around him by Andrew, flipping idly through a selection of crime podcasts to see if he can find any he and Andrew haven’t listened to yet, and his task is seeming impossible. Andrew’s on the other end of the couch, playing Minecraft on his phone, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. 

“Andrew,” Neil huffs out, thinking about maybe seeing if Andrew wants to come closer to him. Over the last few weeks, Neil has been putting a lot more thought into the sex thing. As in, he’s actually considering trying it out with Andrew, for the first time since they’ve started this thing over three months ago now. 

He doesn’t feel insecure about it anymore. Hasn’t really since that talk with Dr. Pines those months ago. He just thinks that he might finally be interested in doing more than just thinking about it now. 

“Neil,” Andrew responds, digging his thumb into Neil’s ankle where he has his leg draped over Andrew’s lap. 

Neil grins, tucking his socked foot into Andrew’s side before asking, “Do you still want to have sex with me?”

Andrew’s thumb stills in its movements, before starting back up again. “Yes,” he says, just as simply as the first time Neil had asked, “do you still know that kissing and sex aren’t mutually exclusive?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Andrew grits out, and Neil smiles despite himself at the look on Andrew’s face. He looks adorably unsure of himself, chin set and eyebrows drawn. 

Neil climbs into Andrew’s lap, and Andrew accommodates him, placing a steadying hand on his hip as Neil gets settled. Neil hums, resting his hands on Andrew’s shoulders, pressing fingers into the tense muscles he finds there. “It’s a yes for me right now, if it is for you too,” Neil says, leaning his forehead against Andrews, “Ask me, Andrew.”

Andrew makes a choked off noise, his hand clutching tighter at the skin of his waist where it has drifted up under Neil’s hoodie. “Yes or no, Neil?” Andrew asks finally.

Neil dips his mouth to Andrew’s, “Yes,” he hums, and then he lets Andrew kiss him senseless. 

This is familiar territory, these breathless kisses. They always leave Neil sated and content, but recently these hot kisses have been giving him that feeling of heat that curls up in his gut like it does when he thinks about Andrew a little too hard. Now though, for the first time in his life, Neil feels that heat in his stomach and wants to do something about it.

He doesn’t think anything has changed, per se. More likely they’ve shifted, Neil’s feelings for Andrew bleeding into another medium. For Neil, he doesn’t think it’ll ever be about sex itself. For Neil, this is just another way to be close with Andrew, and he’s finally ready to explore that with him. 

Neil lets himself get lost in Andrew’s kiss, feeling the deep pull of the kiss like the tug of a string, trying them together irreversibly. Andrew licks into his mouth, taking Neil’s lip gently between his own teeth. 

It feels like it always does, when Andrew kisses him, like the icy rush of a waterfall or the warm crackle of a fire. Like coming home. Andrew’s hands are gripping the tops of Neil’s thighs now, holding them tightly and tensing his fingers into his skin whenever Neil does something particularly interesting with his tongue. Neil’s own hands cup Andrew’s face gently, thumb swiping over the smooth skin of his cheek, and for a moment, Neil forgets about everything else in the world.

He doesn’t feel like he needs to do anything for Andrew to want him, knows he could tell Andrew he changed his mind, and doesn’t actually want to do anything more than kiss for the night. Andrew would understand, and he would never be upset about Neil’s comfort. 

Neil thinks that this thought is what prompts him to make the first move. He wiggles his hips over Andrew’s, who hisses and stills his hips with firm hands at his hips. “Stop that,” Andrew reprimands, voice low as he swipes his thumbs up under the hems of Neil’s running shorts, making Neil’s breath catch. 

“Andrew,” Neil breathes out, reveling in the feeling of Andrew’s hands on him, wanting to feel Andrew’s hands on him everywhere. Wants to finally get the chance to make Andrew feel good. 

“Neil,” Andrew sighs back, “Yes or no?”

Neil skirts his fingertips along the column of Andrew’s neck, a place he’d found out was particularly sensitive for Andrew all those months ago. “Yes,” he whispers into the few inches of space between his and Andrew’s lips. And then, because he knows Andrew would appreciate the reassurance: “Yes, Andrew. I want this. Want you, Drew.”

Andrew hums again and drags Neil in for another kiss to hide the blush beginning to darken his cheeks. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he tells Neil, and Neil nods, grinning as Andrew pulls back just far enough to tug on Neil’s t-shirt.

“You’re going to have to tell me what to do,” Neil says, feeling slightly nervous all of a sudden as Andrew pulls Neil’s shirt off over his head, immediately latching his lips onto the tender skin of his throat. 

Andrew says, “You’re going to be good, Neil, no matter what.” Andrew pulls Neil’s hips forward, rocking them together and causing them both to groan into the motion. “Just let me take care of you,” Andrew murmurs, and heat squirms down Neil’s spine. 

Andrew snaps the waistband of Neil’s running shorts, looking up in question until Neil nods, gasping for breath when Andrew finally pulls them down. 

Neil huffs out his breath into the crook of Andrew’s neck as Andrew takes him into his hand, mind going blank until his only thoughts are of _Andrew, Andrew, Andrew._ Andrew who’s working him over to tenderly, humming encouragement into Neil’s ear. Andrew, who uses his free hand to hold Neil’s own on the arm of the couch. 

Neil wonders if it would have felt like this if they had done this back at the beginning of all this, easy and wonderful and soft. He wonders if he had been missing out of this all along; if he should have pushed passed his reserves and tried this earlier. Almost as soon as the thought crosses his mind, though, Andrew whispers a quiet, “You’re so good, Neil,” into his ear and it dissipates. He knows that this thing within him isn’t something to be fixed; knows that giving this to Andrew wasn’t something he needed to do, but something he wanted to do. He thinks Dr. Pines would be proud of him for thinking that. 

Andrew rolls his hips up into Neil’s, letting out a helpless groan at the pressure, and that’s what pushes Neil over in the end. He shudders as he comes undone in Andrew’s hands, sighing out a whisper of Andrew’s name as he feels it rush over him, warm and sweet and wonderful. Neil tucks his head into the crook of Andrew’s neck as he comes back into himself, hearing Andrew’s pleased hums above him. 

Andrew’s clean hand is moving over the expanse of Neil’s back, rubbing soothing patterns until Neil is able to pick his head up and look at Andrew, loving the tiny brush of pink over his cheeks. “Wow,” is all Neil can think to say, and Andrew huffs softly, shifting his hips underneath Neil and effectively bringing Neil’s attention back to Andrew’s own arousal. “Your turn?” 

Andrew lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes minutely. “If that’s what you want,” he says, and Neil grins at how wrecked his voice sounds. Neil lets his hands travel down to the waistband of Andrew’s sweatpants, asking permission before he dips his hand below, taking Andrew into his own hand, trying his best to keep a rhythm as Andrew shakes below him. 

“Andrew,” Neil says, kissing a line of kisses along Andrew’s throat, “c’mon.”

“Neil,” Andrew responds, as he always does, voice breathy and strained. “You’re so good, Neil. So good—” his voice cuts off as he finally comes undone, and Neil feels pride rush over him, pulling back to watch Andrew’s face. 

After, Andrew carries Neil to his room, where he has practically moved in over the course of the last few months, and wanders off to go clean himself off in the bathroom, leaving Neil to his own devices for a few minutes. Neil starfishes out on Andrew’s bed, still naked aside from the pair of fuzzy socks he’d stolen from Allison and never gotten a chance to give back. 

Neil knows now that doing what they’d just done was not the end goal of his exploration. He knows that he didn’t need to have sex in order for his and Andrew’s relationship to be real. Knows that they never have to do that again if Neil doesn’t want to. Knows that Andrew will be there for him either way, because Andrew will always be there for Neil. 

He did like it though, and he thinks he wants to do it again sometime. Maybe not as much as others, and maybe not even as much as Andrew, but that’s okay, and he understands that now. Neil scoffs to himself quietly. Dr. Pines is going to relentlessly proud of him when Neil tells them about this. Allison and the Boyd-Wilds’ as well. 

Andrew comes back from the bathroom and begins to change to bed, throwing Neil a pair of his own boxers to put on with a heated glare. Neil smiles to himself, shuffling up into Andrew’s arms when he finally turns the light off. “Thank you,” Neil says into the quiet darkness, and Andrew’s arms tighten around him.

“Shut up,” Andrew says, and then, “it’s okay if you never want to do it again.”

“I know,” Neil hums, “I do, though.”

“Okay,” Andrew says, “go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Neil smiles into Andrew’s elbow, letting himself drift off to sleep, feeling light and soft and safe in these arms. 

Neil already knows the rest of quarantine won't be too bad with Andrew by his side. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is me projecting my american quarantine depression onto andreil so i don’t feel so alone. non americans who don’t have covid anymore i envy you and how does it feel to be so sexy? (looking at you my australian friends) 
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :)
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/5a5b5p5)
> 
> And on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/andrewsbutterflyknife)


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